


Snapshots

by TheBadIdeaBears



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Arguing, F/M, Fights, Fire, First Dates, First Kiss, First Love, First Meetings, High School, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Memories, Moving In Together, Oaths & Vows, Party, Photographs, Pictures, Slice of Life, Songfic, University, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26142028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBadIdeaBears/pseuds/TheBadIdeaBears
Summary: The first time Soul and Maka meet, in a dingy basement at a party, someone takes a photo of them. Over the years they take more photos together - these are a selection of snapshots of their life together.
Relationships: Maka Albarn/Soul Eater Evans
Comments: 6
Kudos: 70





	Snapshots

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, it's Pandora! Holly and I asked each other for fics based on the song 'Polaroid' by Keith Urban and this is what I wrote Holly - I hope you enjoy it!

As soon as Soul gets down the stairs and into the basement, he regrets ever agreeing to come. It doesn't matter that Black*Star was so insistent on him coming, this is decidedly _not_ his kind of thing, and given that he can't see Black*Star _anywhere_ , he really should just turn around and leave. Unfortunately, however, he did promise Black*Star he'd come and it would be extremely uncool for him to leave before he even sees him, and so he walks into the throng of people in the basement.

Heavy, bass laden music thumps through the room and people dance to it, their bodies pressing close and their skin sheened with sweat. Judging by the hands clasping plastic cups and the flushed cheeks Soul can see all around him, someone has managed to get hold of no small quantity of alcohol. Soul wrinkles his nose as he recognises the smell of beer mingling with the over warm scent of the dancing crowd, so strong he can almost taste it; he's never been fond of booze, especially after seeing its ability to lower the intelligence of normally sensible people and (in Black*Star's case) turn an already very stupid person into barely sentient goo. As he pushes through the crowd, Soul realises he doesn't know anyone else here. There are some faces he thinks he vaguely recognises from school but most are entirely unfamiliar. It doesn't ingratiate him to the party in the slightest.

“Hey cutie!”

Soul finds his way blocked by the largest pair of breasts he's ever seen in person. He stops in his tracks, tearing his eyes from the neckline of the low cut top to see a tall girl with purple hair and a cat ear headband grinning down at him.

“Do I know you?” she asks, leaning in close so that her breasts loom dangerously in the confines of her top. “I feel like I'd remember a honey like you.”

“Don't think so,” says Soul, trying desperately not to stare at her chest.

“Wanna dance?” she asks with a shake of her shoulders that makes her breasts jiggle afresh.

“I'm not much of a dancer,” says Soul quickly. “And I'm actually looking for my friend. Do you know Black*Star?”

She shakes her head, cat ears threatening to dislodge from her head. “Sure you don't wanna dance?”

“I'm sure,” insists Soul.

“Well here.” Seemingly out of nowhere, the girl finds a cool box and pulls out a beer that she hands to him. “And I'm Blair, if you change your mind.”

“Nice to meet you,” says Soul. Before he can say any more, one of Blair's friends calls excitedly to her and she rejoins the dancing crowd.

Left to his own devices, but now holding an unwanted bottle of beer, Soul continues pushing his way through the room, searching for Black*Star to no avail. Eventually he sinks, with a frustrated sigh, onto a sofa in one corner next to a girl with ash blonde hair in pigtails who looks as bored as he feels.

“Twatting bastard,” grumbles Soul, pulling out his phone to call Black*Star. It rings for a while before going to voicemail; Soul hangs up with a growl. “Fucker.”

“You sound like you're having fun,” says the girl. Soul looks up from his phone to see her looking at him with pretty, wide green eyes. “Can't find someone?”

Soul shakes his head. “Yeah, the idiot who begged me to come here, he's vanished.”

“Sounds like my friend too,” says the girl with a resigned half smile. Her fingers are wrapped around a bottle of beer too, full like Soul's is. “I think we hung out for about five minutes and then she disappeared.”

“Our friends suck,” Soul laughs mirthlessly.

The girl lets out a soft giggle and Soul feels his heart skip as a genuine smile comes to his face. Her green eyes seem to sparkle in the dim light of the basement as she gives him a wider smile in return.

“I'm Maka,” she says.

“Soul,” says Soul. “I'd suggest we clink bottles but I don't think either of us really wants to drink this piss.”

Maka giggles again. “I'd say it's not that bad but it really is.”

It's Soul's turn to laugh at that; he takes the bottles of beer and stashes them round the side of the sofa for someone else to find. “So do you know anyone here?”

Maka nods. “Most of them are from my school.”

“From your school?” Soul frowns. “But they seem to be... looking through you?”

“I didn't say I was popular at school,” says Maka, her smile turning wry.

“But you're so pretty!” says Soul without thinking.

A flush spreads across Maka's cheeks but she laughs quietly. “I'm known better as the teacher's pet; people only really talk to me if they want to copy my homework—except for Tsubaki of course.”

“Is that your friend?”

Maka nods. “You don't go to DWMA do you?”

“Nah,” says Soul. “I go to St Cuthbert's.”

“Fancy,” says Maka.

“It's my parents' fault,” Soul says ruefully. “They wanted me and my brother to go to a private school.”

The two of them continue to chat as the music and dancing continue around them. Soul forgets Black*Star and his irritation over being here—he can't be annoyed when he's had the chance to meet Maka, who's easily the prettiest girl he's ever actually spoken to. Not only that, but she's funny and clever too; Soul can scarcely believe his luck at having met her.

“Hey you two, picture!”

Soul and Maka turn to see who spoke and find a girl with a pink bob wielding a Polaroid camera. They have just about enough time to shuffle closer together and smile before the girl snaps a picture and a square of photo paper pops out the bottom of the camera.

“Here you go nerd,” the girl says, handing the picture to Maka.

“Thanks Kim,” Maka replies, looking down at the grey blobs on the paper as the picture develops. Slowly, Soul sees the two of them swim into existence, sitting together on the sofa and smiling. It's a sweet picture, and one that steels his nerves.

“Hey Maka?” he asks, getting a curious look in response. “Want to go out next weekend?”

Maka grins. “Yeah, I'd love to.”

In the time leading up to their date, Soul finds himself gazing frequently at the Polaroid of himself and Maka from the party. He stuck it to the pin board above his desk in his bedroom and can't help smiling at the picture whenever he gets home or wakes up in the morning. All week he ponders what he's going to wear, what he'll say, what they'll do together. He conjures and rehearses scenarios in his head—imagines himself being cool and impressing her, being brave enough to hold her hand over a milkshake (maybe they could share one with two straws?) or even to kiss her on the cheek.

By the time he gets to the arcade and spots Maka, wearing her hair down and a cute dungaree dress, his heart is racing with excitement. When she sees him and gives him a bright smile, he can't help but grin back.

“Hey,” he greets her as they head inside together, the sound of the machines blaring around them and the smell of sugar in the air. “You alright?”

Maka nods. “Been looking forward to this all week.”

Soul's heart skips. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she says, a little flush in her cheeks. “School was so slow every day.”

“I found the same,” admits Soul, relieved that she feels the same as he's been feeling.

The two of them share an excited grin before picking their first game: a dance machine where they annihilate the co-op levels.

Several hours later, having played almost all the games in the arcade and won huge bundles of tickets, Soul and Maka head to the prize desk. After contemplating the items on offer, Soul selects a keyring and gives the rest (which actually is most) of his tickets to Maka, who picks a large plush rabbit and gives Soul a beaming smile.

“Thank you,” she says, arms clutching the rabbit to her chest. “You didn't have to.”

“I know,” says Soul, giving her a fond smile, “but I wanted to.”

“Still, I feel bad taking all your tickets,” she says. “I want to get you something... Oh!” She nods to a booth in the corner. “How about some pictures?”

Soul eyes the booth. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I have enough change left,” she says. “Come on, it'll be fun.”

The two of them get into the booth, squashing together on the narrow bench, and Maka feeds the necessary coins into the slot at their knees.

“Looks like we get four pictures,” she says, sitting up. Lights signal countdowns for the photos—without a screen, Soul can't see how they'll look but they take one smiling, one pulling silly faces and one with his arm around her shoulders. Just as Soul wonders about bringing Maka's rabbit into the last picture, Maka says, “Hey Soul!”

“Yeah?” Soul turns towards her and she closes the distance between them with a kiss to his lips just as the countdown lights start. His eyes close as the final flash goes off and they hear the machine whirring as it prints their pictures, but Soul stays in the booth with Maka, the two of them trading tender kisses as the world around them falls away.

For the next year, the photo booth pictures make Soul smile from where he pinned them next to the Polaroid. Ever since Maka said yes to being his girlfriend (about five minutes after they got out of the booth), he feels as though he's been carrying a bubble of joy inside him, bouncing about in his chest. He tries to see her most weekends, working hard during the week to get his homework out of the way so they can have all the time together they want, and when either one of them can't go out they send each other frequent messages online. Some nights, Soul stays up late just to chat with her, his heart skipping with excitement at the sight of each new message on his computer screen. When they meet up they go to the park or cinema, as well as the arcade a few times a month; for their six month anniversary they went to the aquarium in the next town over, but generally they go on fairly inexpensive dates.

Tonight, however, is different: for the last couple of months Soul has been saving his allowance and the two of them are going out for dinner to celebrate a year together. Usually when they get food together they go to the pizza buffet in town or just get snacks from a food stand in the market, and they're not going anywhere especially upscale tonight, but it _is_ a sit down restaurant at least.

When he arrives there and finds Maka outside waiting for him, he presents her with a small bunch of flowers and a kiss.

“Hi,” she grins as they part. “Happy one year.”

Soul gives her a faux baffled expression. “I'm fifteen?”

Maka's smile falls and she punches him lightly on the arm. “You spend too much time with Black*Star.”

“Sorry, couldn't resist,” Soul laughs, kissing her on the cheek. “Happy anniversary.”

Inside, the two of them sit down at the table they're shown to and look over their menus. Almost as soon as he opens his, Soul feels his stomach give a sick lurch: the prices here are a little more than he planned for and he isn't sure how much he's going to be able to afford. Cursing his lack of research, he bites his lip and glances over the top of his menu. Maka looks similarly concerned, her brows arched over her eyes in worry as their gazes meet.

“I'm sorry,” Soul says quickly. “I should have realised, I thought it would be less expensive.”

“It's okay,” replies Maka. “I didn't think to check either.”

“What are we going to do?”

“I... guess we each just get a main course?”

Soul's heart sinks. “I'm really sorry—this isn't how I planned this.”

“It's fine,” insists Maka, reaching across the table to take Soul's hand. “I'm here with you—that's all I need. Anything else is a bonus.”

Soul feels his heart thump tenderly and he can't resist returning the smile she gives him. When the waitress comes back and takes their order, he squashes down the lingering feeling of guilt.

After they finish and leave the restaurant, they walk through the market towards the bus stop together. Most stalls are halfway packed up and the floor is littered with detritus from the day. As they pass through the market, they wave to Sid, the guy packing away his hot doughnut stall—they visit him regularly on the weekends after all—and he waves them over.

“You both look very smart,” he says, looking between them. “You celebrating something?”

“We are,” says Maka, squeezing Soul's hand. “It's our first anniversary.”

“Oh you kids are adorable,” says Sid with a grin. “Congrats. You been out somewhere nice?”

“Yeah we went to The Blue Strawberry,” says Soul.

Sid whistles. “Very nice. Well if you're not too full how about some doughnuts on the house?”

“Are you sure?” Soul asks, his heart jumping in his chest at the kind offer.

“Yeah, I'm about to throw the leftover ones away,” says Sid, reaching into a tub to start shovelling leftover doughnuts into a paper bag that he hands to Maka. “They're not very hot anymore but they're still good.”

“Thanks Sid,” she says with a smile.

“Sorry it's nothing bigger,” Sid says.

Soul gets a sudden idea. “Please could you do us a tiny favour?”

“Sure thing,” says Sid.

Pulling a disposable camera out of his pocket, Soul asks, “Could you take a photo of us please?”

Sid takes the camera from Soul, who puts one arm around Maka. The two of them smile as the camera flashes and clicks and then Sid gives them a grin.

“Hopefully that's alright,” he says, handing the camera back. “You'll have to show me how it comes out.”

“We will,” beams Maka.

“Thanks Sid,” says Soul as they head off.

He and Maka pass the bag of doughnuts back and forth as they continue on their way, nibbling at them and trying not to cover their nice clothes in powdered sugar. It's not how Soul saw this evening going, but it feels right to be sharing doughnuts with her like this. Maybe they can have better anniversary celebrations when they get older.

They do have better anniversary celebrations over the following years, whether because they're older and understand what they enjoy better or because they get part time jobs and can afford to do more. As they get towards the end of their time at school and start looking into universities, Maka tells Soul where she's applying and Soul feels his stomach drop. He's always known how clever she is and known that she should go to the best uni she can, but he also hoped they might be able to go to uni together. The places she's applying to are all dizzyingly, dazzlingly good; the kind of places people talk about reverently and only a few people from a school might have a chance of getting into.

For a few days, Soul sits with his own swirling thoughts: he wants to be able to go to uni with Maka but he can't ask her to apply for somewhere lesser and sell herself short. Eventually, he realises what he needs to do and knuckles down. Despite his teachers being unsure of whether he can get in, and despite his own doubts, Soul starts hitting the books as hard as he can, determined that he's going to make this happen no matter what. The one person who supports him throughout and doesn't voice any doubt to him is Maka; even though they go weeks without seeing each other sometimes, she never stops sending him messages of love and belief in him.

In the end, Maka gets into her first choice of university—of course she does—and Soul is so proud of her his heart could burst. He doesn't; his grades are still great, far better than he was predicted to get by his teachers at the start of the year, but not quite enough to get into the same university as Maka. For a while Soul is devastated—he can't imagine being away from her for so long—but then he finds another university in the same town with a course that looks more like what he'd be interested in doing and manages to secure a place there. Knowing that they're going to the same place, Soul feels right asking her to move in with him and his heart leaps for joy when she says yes.

The flat they find is scarcely bigger than a studio but once they populate it with their belongings—clothes, books for their respective courses, knick knacks and keepsakes, including a board of photographs of the two of them—it feels like theirs. Maka turns to Soul with a grin.

“Home sweet home,” she says softly, slipping one hand into Soul's that he squeezes gently.

“Yep,” he replies, leaning in to leave a soft kiss to her lips. “I know I said this before, like... a lot, but I'm so proud of you.”

Maka boops their noses together. “I'm proud of you too.”

Soul strokes her hair with his free hand, a giddy feeling inside him as he contemplates that they're together, in their own (albeit rented) flat, with all the freedom and time in the world together. When she kisses him again, he hugs her round her waist and kisses her back, the giddiness inside him spreading throughout him as they both realise the full meaning of the new freedom they have together. Before they can get too carried away, Soul pulls away for a breath and gives her another grin.

“Picture?”

Maka pauses but then giggles. “You and your pictures.”

Soul shrugs apologetically and grabs a digital camera off his desk.

“It'll only take a sec.”

“Fine.”

Soul pulls Maka close again with an arm around her shoulders and she cuddles into his side. They both grin up into the camera lens and Soul takes the picture, checking the screen after to see that the picture came out really cute. He doesn't get long to look at it before Maka tugs impatiently on his arm and he allows her to drag him away, but he knows he'll get it printed to add to the board of pictures, now up over their bed.

They're in their final year of uni when things get to a head.

“Look, I'm not saying you shouldn't work hard,” grumbles Soul, folding his arms across his chest. “I'm just saying it's hard not to feel a little ignored.”

“Oh my god Soul, I'm not _ignoring_ you,” says Maka, massaging her temples. “I'm really busy right now is all!”

“But you're always busy,” says Soul. He knows he sounds pathetic: of course she's busy—she got into an incredible uni and they expect a lot from their students—but it's hard not to feel resentful of the time she has to spend working on her assignments when he doesn't have to spend anywhere near as much time on his own.

“Soul don't,” Maka says dangerously.

“Don't what?”

“Don't be like that.”

“Like what?”

“Sulky.”

“I'm not sulky.”

Maka scoffs, folding her arms across her chest. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

Irritation buzzes under Soul's skin, her words prodding it like a wasp's nest. “Like you're not being impossible yourself.”

“ _I'm_ trying to get my assignments done,” scowls Maka. “ _You're_ the one who's complaining.”

“Because I never get to see you!”

“I told you, I'm busy right now.”

“And when will you stop being 'busy right now'?”

“Soul...”

“Because I'm getting kind of bored waiting for you to not be busy.”

“Soul _please_ ,” Maka sighs in frustration. “It won't be forever.”

“What about when you go and find yourself an amazing job with your smart person degree and then ignore me all over again?” Soul asks.

Maka makes an angry sound, somewhere between a hiss and a spit. “If that's really what you think of me then why are we even bothering?”

“Beats me,” snarls Soul. “Maybe we should just throw in the fucking towel.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Soul turns on his heel and storms out of the flat, slamming the door shut behind him.

He doesn't bother to look at his phone until he's sitting huffily on a bench in the park. The air is cold and his breath mists around his head as he wakes his phone... and pauses as he sees his wallpaper. It's a picture of the two of them at her college's end of year dance last year, Maka's head on his shoulder and a sweet smile on her face that makes his heart give a hard thump.

It's hard to hold onto the resentment he felt earlier now. Really, he knows it was stupid and only his pride talking; the idea of being entirely without Maka hurts far more than the idea of her being busy, and he knows it's not because she doesn't care. It won't be forever, she said, and it's true; Soul just needs to remember that. Has he completely ruined it now though? He did storm off...

He shakes his head to himself and finds her name in his contacts. If there's any chance she'll listen to him, he has to try and apologise.

Just as he goes to press 'call', his phone rings and makes him jump in the otherwise dark and quiet park. After a moment, he registers Maka's name at the top of his screen and accepts the call.

“I'm sorry,” he says immediately.

“I'm sorry,” she says, almost at the same time, both of them breathlessly apologising over one another.

“I was just about to call you,” says Soul. “I was a dick, I'm sorry.”

“I escalated it,” Maka says. “It wasn't fair of me.”

Soul swallows. “Are we... okay?”

“Y-yeah?” says Maka—the sound of her voice wavering makes Soul's throat thicken. “I mean... I am if you are?”

“I am,” says Soul.

“Where are you?”

“The park.”

“You're outside?”

“Yeah.”

“But it's cold!”

“A bit yeah.” Soul shivers a little as a breeze comes through the park.

“Come home,” says Maka.

When Soul gets home and Maka pulls him into a tight hug, Soul hugs her back just as tightly, the smell of her hair grounding him and bringing tears to his eyes. More apologies spill from his lips and Maka's until they kiss one another. Maka puts away her laptop for the rest of the evening and they curl up on their little sofa together.

After university, and with a decent enough pair of jobs between them, Soul and Maka find a bigger and better flat in the city and settle into a new rhythm. Soul often ends up cooking when Maka has to work overtime and finds he enjoys being able to feed her something nice when she gets home. Maka makes breakfast at the weekends: fruit and yoghurt, waffles, pancakes, food they share as they chat about their weeks together and apart and their plans for the weekend.

Almost a year after they finish uni, one morning just after Maka leaves for work, Soul feels it: a pull in his gut that he recognises straight away. Not trusting Black*Star not to spill the beans and ruin everything, he instead employs Tsubaki's help in looking at rings. After looking in four separate shops, they find a simple silver band with an oval shaped emerald set in it, and Soul knows it's perfect.

The little box seems to burn a hole in his pocket where he carries it over the next few weeks. He figures if he keeps it on hand and the perfect opportunity arises, he'll know and be able to grab it. Unfortunately, no moment ever feels like the right one. He thinks about pulling it out over breakfast one morning, his hand halfway to his pocket when the doorbell goes with a parcel for them. The following weekend, he tries to pluck up the courage to ask when they're out having dinner at one of Maka's favourite restaurants, but then loses his nerve and slides the box back into his pocket. One night, he almost pulls the ring from his bedside cabinet to ask Maka to marry him before they fall asleep—he closes his fingers around the box but then hears Maka give a sleepy sigh he recognises and knows she won't be awake enough to know what he's asking. Instead, he pulls her close and kisses her on the forehead, letting her fall asleep on his chest.

Soul almost doesn't bring the ring when Maka suggests driving out to the coast for the evening. He considers it for a long moment, wondering if he's going to just chicken out again when the time feels like it's coming, but then slides it into his pocket anyway. He's got to do it eventually.

On the beach, the two of them take off their shoes, fingers intertwined as they walk together through the surf, the waves breaking over their toes. Maka leans in close to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“This is nice,” she says simply, squeezing his hand.

“It is.” Soul turns towards her, looking at how the sunset lights up her profile, the soft curve of her cheek and nose, and makes her beautiful green eyes glitter. In that moment, he feels that same tugging he did nearly two months ago and his free hand goes to his pocket. Nerves threaten him again but he swallows them down, pulling the box out and holding it in his hand. “Hey Maka?”

“Hmm?” She lifts her head, looking into his face. “What's up?”

“Er...” Soul pauses but then squeezes her hand again. “I love you, a lot, you know that right?”

Maka considers him for a moment, her eyes narrowing. “What did you do?”

“Nothing, I promise!” Soul says quickly. “I just... I wanted to tell you how much I love you.”

“I love you too,” Maka says, seeming to soften.

“And... well I might have done something.”

“Soul...”

Before she can say anything more, Soul opens the box with his thumb and holds it out to her, showing her the ring with its emerald glinting in the light of the setting sun, just like her eyes, which widen.

“Maka will you marry me?” Soul asks, a little breathless.

Maka looks between the ring and Soul's face with huge eyes before a smile breaks across her face. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes!”

Both starting to cry, Soul takes the ring from the box and slides it onto Maka's finger. She looks at it for a moment before looking at him again. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Soul leans in to kiss her, both arms tight around her to pull her close. “You're sure?”

“Yes of course,” Maka says with another wobbly grin.

Once they're both certain they won't start crying again, Soul pulls out his phone and they take a few photos together; Soul swears he's never seen Maka's smile so wide or so beautiful.

The cause of the fire is never conclusively determined. All they're told is that it's likely some kind of electrical fault and that there was nothing they could have done to stop it. It's little comfort, as is the knowledge that they have insurance, especially when they go sift through the flat to see the state of the place.

Almost everything is destroyed: their books have been reduced to a pile of ashes and their clothes are a sad pile of scorched and melted fabric. Their mattress clearly caught fire, turning their bedclothes to cinders, and their kitchen is an unrecognisable crisp. Worst of all, the photo albums on the shelf in their bedroom are gone entirely; when Soul puts a tentative hand out to the shelves, he finds only ashes and dust there and his heart sinks.

“The bathroom seems mostly okay,” says Maka, coming back into the bedroom and looking around sadly. “So I guess we still have shower gel at least.”

Soul nods. “All the pictures are gone.”

“Oh Soul.” She crosses to him, putting her arms around him in a tight hug, and he lowers his head to her shoulder. “I'm sorry,” she says softly.

“Not your fault,” he says immediately. “It's no one's fault.”

“I know,” she says. “I just know how much you loved those pictures.”

Soul says nothing; if he speaks he might cry, and he knows the pictures aren't that important when they don't even know where they're going to sleep and still have a wedding to pay off as well as all this. Still, it hurts to know all those memories are gone.

“We're still here,” Maka says quietly, running soothing hands up and down his back, stroking his hair, swaying a little where she stands to rock him comfortingly. “We're still alive and that's what matters.”

“Yeah,” mumbles Soul, straightening up and looking at her, cupping her tear streaked face in his hands. In the grey that surrounds them, she looks like the only point of colour in the room; Soul leans in and kisses her gently on the lips. “Long as we're both here I know we'll be okay.”

She gives him a tiny smile, covering his hands with her own. “We should finish up here and figure out where we're going for tonight.”

“Okay,” says Soul, giving her another little kiss and walking out of the bedroom to see what might be salvageable from the kitchen.

On the morning of their wedding, Soul still hasn't figured out his vows.

He stands in the room he's been sent to to get ready, staring into the mirror as he continues to fiddle with his bow tie, and turns every word and phrase he knows over and over in his mind. None are satisfactory, not to describe Maka or how he feels about her. But he'll be going out there in about ten minutes, and soon after that he'll have to say his vows in front of all their friends and family.

What is he going to say? What can he? Maka means everything to him, more than he ever could have imagined—how is he meant to explain that depth of feeling to anyone else? He doesn't have the words, but to say _that_ would be cliché and boring.

A knock comes at the door and Soul bids the visitor to come in, his throat dry. Blue spiked hair appears around the door as Black*Star enters, in his best man suit.

“Hey dude, how you doing?”

Soul shrugs. “Okay.”

“You should be more excited!” cajoles Black*Star. “You're about to marry Maka!”

“I'd be more excited if I knew what my vows were going to be,” says Soul, his nerves making him honest despite himself.

Black*Star's mouth drops open. “Dude you should have those ready by now!”

“Well I've been trying to write them,” says Soul, annoyance tingeing his words. “Nothing's felt right.”

For a long moment, Black*Star looks thoughtful before saying, “Maybe you guys should have just gone for traditional vows.”

“It's a bit late for that now!” points out Soul, hands slipping on the bow tie yet again.

“Well...” Black*Star says slowly. “How about you choose a song you like and just... use the lyrics?”

Soul gives him a stony look. “I'm not plagiarising my vows, it's not how I want to look back on my wedding day.”

“Okay sure... Then how about... 'Maka your face is almost as sweet as your—'”

“You know what,” interrupts Soul, finally finishing with his bow tie. “Don't worry about it, I'll figure something out.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“It's your funeral dude.”

Soul shakes his head to himself. Why on earth did he think Black*Star would be any help?

“Oh, I almost forgot,” says Black*Star suddenly. “Maka said to bring you this.”

He reaches into an inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a square of paper that he holds out to Soul. Expecting a note of some kind, Soul takes it from him, but then feels his heart almost stop as he sees what's in his hand. It's the Polaroid of the two of them from the night they met, both smiling awkwardly out of the photo as they sit together on the sofa.

“She had this?”

Black*Star nods, clearly nowhere near as affected as he is. “She said she found it in your flat.”

“It wasn't destroyed?”

“Apparently not, she said it was some kind of miracle and she wanted to make sure you had it.”

Soul feels his breath catch in his throat and immediately knows what he wants to say for his vows. “I'm ready.”

Black*Star blinks at him. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Waiting at the altar for Maka would be the most nerve-wracking experience of Soul's life if not for the Polaroid, now safely in the pocket of his suit. He wants to ask her about it, but as her entrance music begins to play, he realises he'll have to save his questions for later. Seeing her, white lace surrounding her smiling face, almost takes his breath away and he can't hide a grin. As she comes level with him at the altar, she slips one hand into his.

“Hey,” she says softly; Soul isn't sure if she's about to burst into tears or wild laughter.

“Hi,” he whispers back. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she beams. “Did you get it?”

Soul nods, but before he can say anything more, the guests all sit down expectantly and the two of them turn to the priest to start the ceremony. After the introduction and readings, the priest asks them to exchange vows, and Soul swallows. Feeling eyes on him, he turns to face Maka, holding her hand in his own and gazing into her eyes.

“Maka,” he says, his voice catching so that he has to clear his throat. “Maka, I've never known anyone as amazing as you. You're the sweetest, kindest, most beautiful person and I'm just... so thankful we both went to that terrible party when we were fourteen.” A little hum of laughter sounds from the guests and Maka, her eyes shining, giggles softly. Soul reaches into his pocket with his free hand and pulls out the Polaroid, dog eared and a little battered but miraculously still whole. “We've come a really long way since this was taken and I never could have dreamed how much you'd come to mean to me but I promise I'll never forget how lucky I am and I'll always try to make you feel just as lucky. Oh please don't cry!”

The guests 'aww' softly as Tsubaki hands Maka a tissue and Maka dabs gently around her eyes, squeezing Soul's hand. “Sorry,” she says quietly, her smile wobbly. “I'm okay, carry on.”

Soul gives her an encouraging smile and adds, “I promise to appreciate you and to never take you for granted. I promise to stand by you and support you. I promise to take care of you and always be there for you. I promise to love you with all my heart, forever.”

His voice catches again on the last word, his hand holding the Polaroid shaking a little before the priest turns to Maka for her vows. She gets through them with a remarkably steady voice and soon—almost too soon, it seems—they're slipping rings onto each other's fingers and sharing their first kiss as a married couple. Soul's heart thrums in his chest, jubilant and excited for all the time to come with her. The Polaroid—now slipped back into his pocket—seems to radiate a kind of beautiful magic; once he was just a boy in a photo with her, but now she is his and he is hers and he can't imagine feeling any happier than he does now.


End file.
